No Yoga No Peace

It is hard to imagine that there is this gift of breath and delightful scents under our nose all day. And that, after all this time the Sun has never told the Earth: “You owe me.” And that, no matter how many times the shore pushes the ocean away, turning it back onto itself, the ocean never tires, never ceases her efforts, ever.

We should just be thankful for how beautiful nature is. That we still have clear waters and green grass, even after every horrible thing we have done to her.

When you see surfers in movies, you might think of a competition and a lot of people, cars jam packed, smiling tan faces chomping on something with reflective sunglasses on. You might imagine a ton of sponsors, banners, vendors, you name it and its there, quite the hollywood spectacle. But that’s not really what it’s like at all.

It’s lonely out there and a trying process just to get there, wherever it is you want to be. The strength to continue moving those arms and paddle because you musn’t lose the progress you’ve made. Don’t let the wave tempt the tip of your board up. Keep steady and breathe. Feel what is coming, but mostly wait for the feeling to arrive. And, after several hard conversations with yourself, dialogue you may have been overhearing between yourselves as they logically rationalize and empathize with everything and nothing, the feeling has arrived. She gives you a pulse and you know to turn. Its yours and you nail it. You knew to take your time. You stayed low until you were steady. You even forgot that there were things to remember. It was effortless and the best you’ve ever rode. You finish and when you look around, it’s just you. You to thank, you to impress, and you to congratulate. It’s been you all along.

 

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